Disclaimer: Anything familiar to you, I don't own. This is a work of fanfiction for personal amusement, fulfillment and maybe a bit of self-therapy. I make nothing from any of it. Cheers.
Notes: I wanted to stop and thank everyone for the really supportive feedback on this work. I hope I can live up to the high hopes some of you seem to have for this piece. I also hope I can live up to the high hopes I have for it. The original plan was for there to be three interludes, then while planning I settled on four. After some thought I've brought it back down. The next one is the last before Part 3 begins in earnest. Next week, though, is finals week for me. Things might interfere with me meeting my Weds/Sun posting schedule and if so I hope you all understand.
Interlude II: Down a River Named Emotion
December 24th, 2010 - 5:34 PM
The Frankentruck's passenger door shut harder than intended: a gust of wind slammed it when Rachel let go. Happy her fingers weren't in the way, she let the moment of some surprise pass. Leaning forward, she watched Chloe through the window with some regret. Even with the cab of the truck to block her from the wind and the rain turning rapidly to snow it was going to be cold. She's got a hell of a heart, Rachel thought, watching Chloe turn and stretch her legs across the seat, free her beanie from her head and place it over her eyes. It was easy to imagine a stetson being pulled down to block out the sun. She smiled at the girl, knowing she couldn't be seen. Regretfully, she left the girl to the cab and told herself she could make this as fast as she wanted. She was not about to leave Chloe out to freeze.
For a moment, Rachel ran a finger down the side of the truck. It was cool to the touch as it should be. It was also solid, whole, still fighting, still running for Chloe. Rachel wasn't sure when she picked up Chloe's habit of personifying the truck. Maybe it had been the day she interrupted Nathan Prescott in his photo shoot. Either way, Rachel gave the vehicle, dingy and old as it was, a thankful pat. She owed Chloe a proper thanks later, probably over a warm-if greasy and horrible for them-meal. Rachel turned and examined the building in front of her.
The two story building stretched along the length of the parking lot and then around the width of it. It was still, somehow, rather squat looking. The sign at the front of the lot declared a room to run about seventy dollars a night. Rachel could guess, though, judging by dingy curtains hanging over windows, filthy brick facades and the fact that the majority of the cars in the lot looked to be in worse shape than the Frankentruck that the rooms were overcharging. The solid enough looking door to room fourteen was right in front of her, not a car to be found around it. It was somewhat frustrating to consider that her bio mom was basically living out of this shitty motel. It wasn't like Rachel had any money of her own and she could not really try to convince her mother to help the woman. Does she have any family? Why don't I know that by now? How hard is it going to be to get hired when your address is a motel?
Rachel paused beside the nose of the truck, wondering for not the first time why she did not feel more for the moment. I want answers, I want to know her. Chloe would be giddy at finally getting answers. Max would be nervous enough she might ask Chloe to come with her- okay, maybe that one's not true, but she's Max. Chloe would ask one of us to come with her. I'm worried that things might end up turning to shit but I'm not even considering the option of just turning and leaving. Shouldn't I feel more? This could all blow up in her face and as unpleasant as that might be, it didn't stop or slow her. Rachel knew that she could walk up to the door and be turned away and simply return to the truck and go back to Arcadia Bay. She would be sad. She would feel irritated. She would be calm again before they made it out of Edgeton, if she got that worked up at all.
Each knock felt a little quieter than she expected given the force she put behind them. The voice that answered, calling out for her to wait just a moment, still felt unfamiliar. Rachel couldn't see it happening but she had a feeling that the slightly longer than expected pause was due to her bio mom staring through the peephole at her. From film and television she was able to recognize the sound of first a chain lock being undone, the chain falling to clatter against the door and then a deadlock. Well, she thought, that would keep someone out for about ten seconds. The blonde woman pulled the door open rather slowly, as if giving herself time to consider the situation.
Sera stood framed in the doorway in a cheap looking, if brand new tee and slacks that struck Rachel as more fitting on her actual mother than on the woman she met briefly in May. She has enough money for a new outfit, probably to go job searching. At least she's probably not stuck without food. I wonder what she's applying to? I have no idea if she had a job at one point, if she went to college, anything. A quick glance at her face showed that Sera had done much the same as her: made a perfunctory, if unnecessary attempt at applying makeup. For a second, Rachel was back in Chloe's bedroom, knelt in front of the bed, teaching the girl ('I mean, I was going to try to learn this crap when I was thirteen but then I didn't care,') about things like eyeliner, eyeshadow, the like. 'Simple shit,' as Chloe had asked in halting, stuttering words. Chloe was satisfied with what she knew and only made limited use of it: the eyeliner she now wore on almost the daily made her eyes kind of stand against her fair skin. Rachel, though, found that she did not bother with even that outside of special occasions. It was a useless, silly hoop to jump through, in her opinion and since meeting Chloe, hoop jumping no longer sounded fun.
What if we both did this for the same reason? Rachel asked herself as the moment stretched out a little longer than comfortable. What if we both wanted to meet expectations we thought the other would have halfway? What if I'm overthinking absolutely fucking nothing? Her tendency to analyze things had begun worsening lately. Perhaps it was a reaction to her discomfort about her difficulty with emotions. That's probably all it is.
"I hate hearing my mother's words in my mouth, but you're probably going to catch your fuckin' death out there," Sera said by way of greeting. A snowflake passed across Rachel's vision. Sera's face relaxed visibly. "Hello, Rachel. There's not a ton of room, but you're welcome to come in and get warm, chill out." Rachel watched Sera kind of grimace, as if to say, 'sorry for the pun.' Sera glanced briefly over Rachel's shoulder. While Rachel understood what she was looking at, Rachel was watching her, searching for her first answer of the meeting. The blonde's face was open. In that way she was reminiscent of Max. Rachel thought her eyes would be windows. Sera was hesitant, regretful and a little confused. She was also bone weary. Rachel might have trouble feeling as strongly as she wanted to but she damn sure knew what someone looked like when they were this kind of tired. The similarities to Max continued. There are things Chloe and Max can pull out of me that I feel that hard or there's rage. The rest of it doesn't come through this strong, it doesn't show up in the mirror unless I put it there. Rachel sighed, earning an uptick in Sera's confusion. Whatever's wrong with me, it's not genetic.
Rachel smiled at Sera and stepped in when the woman turned to the side. Pausing once inside, Rachel shifted shoulders beneath her jacket and turned back toward Sera who was again looking out at the truck. And she gives a damn about complete strangers, Rachel thought it seemed genuine enough, to top it off. Sera's gray eyes shifted between the truck and Rachel for a moment, the door still half open and cold air pushing into the motel room. Rachel didn't quite turn her attention to the room, instead deciding to address the issue in her bio-mom's concerns.
"It's fuckin' cold out there," Sera finally said. "Your friend can come in, you know. I don't mind." Through the doorway and in the lot, Chloe had shifted in her seat, hands working over an air guitar with earbuds trailing from her ears. She would be fine, Rachel knew, for a short time. Enough for Rachel to dig a little deeper into what she needed to know. Besides, it wasn't like this whole not coming with her thing was Rachel's idea.
"She said she wants to give me a chance to talk to you alone this time," Rachel explained. "Later, or maybe next time if you're cool with it, she'll come in." Sera shut the door behind her and cut the cold air, the image of Chloe through the windshield and the falling snow off. Rachel's last view of Chloe was the girl leaning forward, in some sort of air guitar solo, lost in her own world.
"I'm fine with it, but I hope that old rust bucket has a hell of a heater," Sera finally said, from the door to settle on the edge of the bed. Rachel took a second to ease her jacket off. Speaking of a heater, the motel's was actually fairly effective. Old, thin carpet and all, it seemed to be warm enough. "A very good heater." The woman rested one leg beneath her as she settled. Rachel again wondered how that didn't hurt a person's knee.
"There's still some disagreement on that," Rachel told her as she made for a comfortable enough looking chair not far from the bed. It occurred to her that she would have to be insane to tell Sera about the fact that sometimes Rachel's body was more effective than any heater she had ever seen. And if I told her about the night of the play, she'd accuse me of being on drugs. Rachel settled her new jacket over her knees, subconsciously running a hand over the beak of the large raven on the back. Sera suddenly chuckled. "What?"
"I had a jacket a lot like that one when I was your age," Sera told her. "I think my best friend stole it before she moved away, actually. She used to say she would." Rachel thought she sounded wistful, though hardly upset. Then again, if you were close enough to someone, you might not mind that they would want something to remember you by. Across the room a news anchor's voice came through the speakers on a television that looked about as old as she was. As a pause spread between them, the story on the screen changed. Rachel turned away from it almost instantly as her father's face appeared on the screen. The ticker rolled by, declaring, 'Disgraced D.A. James Amber's trial set to wrap up in January.' "Shit," Sera spat, "I'm sorry." The woman grasped at a remote on sitting on the edge of the bed beside her and dropped the volume.
"It's alright," Rachel put in. It wasn't that hard to understand the woman's concern and, to be fair, her stomach was still churning a little at the thought of the looming trial date. In that moment, Rachel made a decision that she didn't know she was really still contemplating. "It really is." Sera still leaned forward. Hunching forward did nothing to obscure the tired look on her face, in fact, she looked worse, she looked older.
"You know," Sera started. Things are about to get serious. "You're owed so many answers about your past, about me." The woman tilted her head down, staring at the threadbare blue-green carpet. " Anyone, in your position would." Grief rose up like a hum in the depths of her stomach. "I just don't know how to talk about it yet, so even though I don't deserve it, I need to ask you a favor."
"What?" Rachel asked, tentatively. It wasn't that she was concerned she was about to be taken advantage of by the woman. Sera had spent too much time reaching out to her for that, months of letters and brief messages. It was more that she was worried that Sera was about to say she had to go back away for a while, that she wasn't in control after all. Rachel did not want to delay this any longer. She wanted to know Sera. Her hand returned to running softly along the jacket. In a way, it was like Max was in the room with her.
"I want to get to know you first," the blonde woman insisted. "That's all I ever wanted. I never wanted to make things worse for you. I just wanted to know you." Rachel relaxed. Sera wanted what she wanted and Rachel admonished herself for forgetting that.
"Fine by me," Rachel responded, more frankly. "But it's got to be a two way street. You ask, I answer. I ask, you answer." When Sera's face changed, it was a grin, like someone who had heard their own words from someone else's mouth and found it either gratifying or amusing. It was also the kind of grin that Chloe wore often. Everything about how Sera shifted to sit straighter, how she failed to disguise her relief with her amusement and didn't seem to give a fuck was reminiscent of Chloe. It wasn't a perfect fit, but it was kind of comforting to think of her like that, like someone Rachel could understand.
"I respect a bit of wheeling and dealing, girl," Sera responded. "Sounds fine to me. Also, do you want a coke? I've got a twelve pack in the fridge and at my age I probably shouldn't have so much sugar or caffeine." Rachel thanked her quietly and got to her feet. At the far end of the dresser the old television sat on was a refrigerator only about as high as that. Rachel knelt in front of it. "But that hasn't really stopped me yet, bring me one, too." Rachel snorted into the fridge and came up with a pair of cans. Christ, she really does remind me of Chloe, sometimes. It only took a moment to deliver one can to her bio mom and settle herself back into her chair. Oh God, is it true what they say? You fall in love with your parents? For many, many reasons, she hoped that was a fallacy. She definitely shivered at that. Simultaneously, the sound of popping tabs filled the room and Rachel took a long drink, before continuing.
"Let's start there," Rachel said. As soon as Sera swallowed, she raised an eyebrow. "How old are you? What's your birthday?"
"Actually," Sera said, sounding slightly more at ease despite the next words from her mouth, "Your father and I were born on the same day, same town, same hospital. I think I'm a whole two hours older." For a moment she made as if to take another drink. "I mean, it made birthdays a lot easier."
"My mother and I have a deal," Rachel said when Sera grew quiet. Perhaps it was childish of her but she couldn't help but pause and watch to see if referring to her mother in that way drew any negative reaction. "She doesn't talk about James Amber and I don't leave every time she and I are trying to have a conversation." Sera unwound a leg from beneath her. Sera did not seem to react to 'mother' negatively but she looked sad again at this last. "Can we please have the same deal? At least tonight."
"Absolutely," Sera said, finally, "but since we're adhering to deals, it's your turn." It took Rachel a second to understand what she was saying but when she did she nodded and took a drink. "I want to know what it was like for you growing up. As long as it doesn't get too close to the topic that we won't be discussing, I mean." Rachel grinned at the humoring tone in her voice. It wasn't really passive aggressive, at least.
Rachel started as early as she could remember, growing up just outside of San Diego, California. Quietly, Rachel recounted moving from San Diego to Arcadia Bay when she was nine, choosing her words carefully to not mention her father she tried to imply that work was what brought her parents to the little town. Rachel told her that she grew up pretty wealthy, especially for Arcadia Bay. She was insulated from the world, she didn't understand what people really went through when they didn't have a lot of money, didn't have a safe home. Then, Rachel said, after she came to a certain age, it was decided that she wasn't to be homeschooled anymore. She was going to attend Blackwell Academy.
"The 'Ambers' aren't the richest family in town," she told Sera, as the woman settled back, her back against the headboard. "At least until June we were probably top five. Since then most of the money's sunk into legal defenses, probably." Rachel shrugged. "I don't care about the money. I'm just glad about the care package that found its way to the police chief's doorstep." She felt the cruel grin split her face. For a moment Rachel imagined that it looked a lot like Max's, standing over Damon Merrick's prone form, threatening Frank's life if he dared to touch Chloe or Rachel. Even back then, Rachel thought, running two fingers along the outline of the raven on the back of her jacket. Jesus Christ. Nearly half an hour had passed by that point.
"Was that your doing?" Sera asked, a tone of dawning comprehension in her voice. Rachel made sure that Sera was looking into her eyes before she answered with one open, blunt nod. At this point, if for some reason Sera decided to tell anyone this fact, it wouldn't change a damn thing. Her father was either going to go down or not.
"I'll probably deny if anyone else finds out, but yeah," she told her biomom. "Max had an idea about how to prove what we suspected. Chloe and I searched the study in my house. We found a lot of hiding places of 'his.' We took photos of all of it in context, in the place we found it, with this old flip phone he was using to talk to Merrick, shoved it all into a box of files and put it right on the chief's doorstep." Proud, Rachel lifted her head, high. "It only took one anonymous call from a payphone here in Edgeton and it was all over for James."
"I'm so sorry I put you in that situation," Sera all but whispered.
"I put myself there," Rachel told her. "I didn't feel safe at home, I didn't want to see him get away with what he did. For those reasons, I chose to do that. I went to the people I trusted and asked them to help me. I made that phone call. I did that." Sera sighed. Rachel changed the subject. She continued. "At Blackwell, I didn't make any friends at first. Everyone was so different than me. So many people just being petty and mean for no reason. Maybe it was worse because I was homeschooled. I didn't know how to talk to people. It took me a while but I figured it out. I learned to do something my mother tried to teach me. I put on masks. I did what I had to do to make 'friends.' None of them were close to me. None of them knew me. It worked though. I started theater, I even picked up piano. Hated piano. Tried soccer, hated soccer. I'm actually half decent at basketball, but I don't like it." Sera seemed to tune back in.
"I realized people wanted me to be what they admired or what they wanted to be, and that was how you made friends. By the time Chloe came to Blackwell, I didn't really know who I actually was. I think in the end it's because I don't really feel things as strongly as everyone else. Mom doesn't either." Sera looked as if she wanted to say something to this. Rachel waited, eager for something, some input, anything that made her understand herself. The woman shut her mouth and gestured for Rachel to continue, perhaps sensing she was coming to her point. She felt dimly disappointed. "It's starting to change, you know? There's a couple people who can like, make me feel normal and feel normally. "
"Your friend Chloe's one of them?" Sera asked, tilting her head toward the parking lot.
"My girlfriend, Chloe, is one of them," Rachel clarified. Not an ounce of overbearing reaction passed across Sera's face but she nodded as if taking a lesson. Rachel felt deeply relieved. "I mean, I saw her a couple years ago when she first came to Blackwell. She looked like she came from poverty to me, but I got a little more smart on that kind of thing. It's not quite that extreme. It's just that everyone else around me was always trying to look at the top of everything, wear the best of everything. Chloe wasn't. She was always picked on and treated like shit by the others because she was just a little different and because she felt so intensely. When she was hurt, it was obvious in every action, every look on her face, every word she said. It's still that way, actually. Though she likes to pretend it's not. She got angry and then I realized one day that she was like me, closed off. She stopped coming to school. Then… one day a few months ago I saw her out at a show, being harassed by a couple of Damon Merrick's boys." This made Sera sit back up right. Rachel did not let go of the empty hand.
"That night, I actually met Chloe. Less than a day later, I caught feelings. Then an old friend of hers showed up and she and I got close after she came to Blackwell. But in between, well," Rachel gestured to Sera as if to say she could guess the most of it. "This other girl? She knocked Merrick out twice. Really, she and Chloe are why you and I ever met."
"I do owe those girls something," Sera said, turning her head toward the curtained window. Rachel was reminded again that Chloe was out in that cold. Even with the heater running, it would be unpleasant. I think it's time to wrap this up. "This other girl, Max… she's important?"
"You know, I didn't think I'd tell you this," Rachel said, quietly, "but, yeah. She's the only person other than Chloe who makes me feel like a person." Sera sighed, heavily. "And I think Chloe and I are both a lot in love with her? We're probably keeping it quiet from our families for a while, but we've both 'asked her out,' or whatever you want to call it."
"That's not as rare as you think it is, but I've never quite understood how people can manage it, especially when they're all hormones and insecurities." Sera did not make any promise to silence but she also did not indicate any excessive judgment. Rachel stopped stroking the jacket. Her fingers opened and closed. She was starting to get a little uncomfortable with sitting in there alone. "But if they're special to you, I guess you find a way."
"They are special," Rachel told her, glancing to the door. "And I don't think I can leave Chloe out in that anymore." Sera nodded, arms crossing across her chest. She looked pleased.
"Go get her," Sera told Rachel. "Get her in out of the cold and we'll finish up here and let the two of you get home before it gets too dark." She tossed the jacket on, knowing that it wouldn't do much against the cold. It was like Max's arm over her shoulder though and that, she had to confess, she needed. Rachel missed the photographer anew.
"I'll be back in a second."
"I'll be here," Sera said, as if making a solemn promise.
January 31st, 2011 - 2:48 PM
Rachel smoothed the dress over her knees pointlessly, an expression of discomfort. Beyond one of the uncomfortable dinners with her mother, Rachel could not remember the last time she really dressed up. This, though, was a whole other issue. The long, black dress, one of a mourner, felt uncomfortable on her. It did, however, send the message she wanted to any onlooker who had enough knowledge to understand it. As grim as she felt, Rachel tried to keep her face calm. She knew that that facade had no effect on the people to either side of her. Not today. Her masks were weak and brittle. Chloe was to her left, more casually dressed as was her way. On her right, Max was in a plain tee and dark pants. Her outfit was a kind of middle ground between that of the other two and that might have been enough to make Rachel laugh at any other moment. Looking forward and to the right, she could see the back of her mother's head, toward the front of the benches behind the bar. There were a good fair few people who had come to see this day of the trial but Rachel could find her mother in that crowd, almost instinctively.
Rachel and her girls were not behind her father and his lawyer, a worn out looking man who moved too slowly for his thirty years. No, they had come under the guise of being just curious citizens come to watch. Fittingly, as it turned out, they had ended up sat on the left side of the room, behind the prosecution. All of this, Rose Amber had only realized as the jury was excused to deliberate and Rachel had seen her looking around, uncomfortably. The hurt on her face was palpable when they met eyes over the crowd. In that moment Rachel knew she had been seeing her mother's true face, her devastation, her undoing. It brought her no pleasure, but Rachel was looking forward to some satisfaction, some relief to come. Rachel knew Sera was out there, outside of the room somewhere and afterward, as per Rachel's instructions, would be waiting nearby to meet her. The last time they spoke, Rachel had promised she would see Sera sooner than she thought that that day she would want to talk to her
Just minutes ago, they were allowed to speak in a respectful tone to one another. Now they had all been asked for quiet and attention. That meant, Rachel suspected, was sign that the jury was returning. The hand smoothing over her dress was suddenly seized. She traced her eyes up Chloe's arm, to her face. Popping under the attention of her eyeliner, with the help of the bright green hair beneath her hat, Chloe's eyes drew Rachel's attention for a long time. She grasped the girl's hand and then-caring not a bit for pretense in the moment-her right hand, which she was still supposed to treat gingerly, pressed down on Max's left knee. After a moment the girl got the message and rested her own hand on top of it. Rachel turned to look at the photographer once, shortened hair swept to one side, face warm and caring, and then stared forward toward the backs of the prosecution. Max has already said she's interested, said she's alright with us, cares for us, even if she isn't ready to hurry into it. So today, fuck it. I just want this. Max's hand cupped her own for a second and then gripped it, softly, as if afraid she would re-break Rachel's fingers. This is the person who sometimes thinks she's a monster, Rachel thought, with muted wonder. She shifted on the hard bench, feeling unwell and anxious all at once.
In either face whose gazes were turned on her, she saw care enough that it moved her, trying to quiet that anxiety but not quite reaching it, an itch just beyond the length of one's fingers. Before she could whisper anything to either of them, before she could express her adoration, before she could promise them a better day would come tomorrow, where they could just be together and relax, a smaller door to one side of the courtroom opened. Rachel swallowed and any potential words of thanks, of respect, of anything died in her throat. Her breath caught below the lump. It was nothing like when some sight of or action of Chloe or Max's took her breath from her. No love, no lust, no passion or great jolt of amusement or happiness followed it. Instead it was like missing an expected step on the way down stairs. One after another, the jury poured into their box. Her eyes found the foreperson, a small woman with ratty brown hair. Her face was impassive, calm, and Rachel tried to find a juror whose face was more open. She needed to know they had reached a verdict, that this would be all over. Oregon was one of two states in the union that could convict a person without a unanimous ruling. They only needed a supermajority of ten. Without that much, this trial would have to happen all over again.
Rachel could not have that.
There came absolutely no sign of their answer in any juror's face. Rachel reflected as she looked away from them that being mostly cut off from her mother had cost her a lot but also spared her the pain of most of this trial. Max and Chloe had done their part in shielding her, too. She couldn't forget that. Thank you, she thought, glancing again to her left or right. Chloe was watching the jury, determinedly. Max, however, was looking once more at her. Tabletop, homework, the play, Max and Chloe, all of it kept me busy, but this downtime for the holidays is driving me nuts. I need this to be over. An ounce of mercy meant this would all be over.
"Foreperson," the judge, a severe looking man in his fifties, called. The ratty-haired woman rose to her feet. "Has the jury reached a decision?" On the other side of the room, her father's shoulders stiffened. Her mother's head rose.
"We have, your honor." Beside Rachel, both girls continued to watch her, concern written openly on their faces. She squeezed either hand. At the judge's instruction, the clerk approached the woman and received a paper. Chloe released her and that arm rose to rest around her shoulders. When she did that, Rachel realized she felt stiff all over. Her top lip was trapped between her teeth. If she wasn't careful, she would draw blood. Have to hold it together, no matter what happens. The judge turned the paper over in his hands, reading it slowly, too slowly. Feeling strangely distant, Rachel forced herself to stay straight up. Perhaps in response, Chloe leaned in closer. It was probably not precisely an acceptable action in the courtyard. They're waiting to support me or to comfort me. Which action goes with which outcome? The paper passed from the judge to the clerk and then back to the foreperson. Were things happening quickly again or was she losing touch with everything around her. Max's eyes burned into the side of her face but Rachel could not turn. She could not look at either of them. She felt Chloe turning slightly in her seat.
"Please read your findings," the judge instructed, folding his hands in front of him. Sighing deeply, the woman lifted the paper and began to speak words which could end a portion of her grief or ruin her week more effectively than the Frankentruck catching a flat tire, for certain. The foreperson swallowed and restarted what she was saying. Chloe seemed to hover just above and beside her. Max's leg pushed hard, bracingly against her own. Rachel tried not to feel like a balloon floating above the two of them.
"On three counts of obstruction of justice, we the jury find the defendant… guilty." Her eyes snapped to her mother and father. Ahead of the bar, James Amber still had his head high, chin proudly jutting forward. Her mother's face was buried in her handkerchief. She could not read anything else from the moment. Some minor charges involving the mishandling of evidence or forms of minor conspiracy were read out, and a bribery charge followed suit. Rachel did not know that part of the story. Each time she heard the word guilty, she unintentionally tightened her hold on Max's hand. Rachel would think later about how Max did not protest though it must have been nearly unbearable. Then, after several seconds came the moment people were waiting with baited breath for. "On one count of conspiracy to procure murder for hire, we the jury find the defendant, guilty." The words dropped off the foreperson's tongue as if they weighed a ton and could shatter the earth at her feet. Rachel understood, she was potentially condemning a man to spend the majority of his remaining life in prison. Muttering broke out around the sleek, mostly wooden courtroom and almost instantly the judge's gavel slammed down to call for order. James Amber collapsed forward and Rachel had enough time to see her mother throw herself into the arms of the woman beside her, ostensibly a friend from work before she herself found she could not keep her head up any longer. If her mother looked up to try to match eyes with her, Rachel did not know.
Rachel leaned forward and her own eyes fell on the floor. Wetness began to pool around her eyes. She knew what was coming, far too late. Blinking, she tried to clear the tears away without moving her hands. Her breathing did not change overmuch. When she opened her eyes the tearing did not stop, but the tears dripped down her cheeks. Rachel wondered why she did not cry like normal people: her face sat calm and unchanging. All at once, light was blocked out around her as Chloe leaned more completely over her, both arms encircling her, meeting on her other side. Rachel's eyes shifted up and all she saw was Chloe's shirt. Max was forced to release her hand but the photographer's shifted to rub her back. This was comforting, kind, but, with frustration she felt like her emotions were more distant than usual.
Her eyes did not dry. The realization that she might be more broken and inhuman than she thought tore anger from her core, but nothing else felt so real. Max's voice, whispering from close to her ear promised that they could rise and leave now. It was over. Rachel shook her head. Rachel tried to rise, forcing Chloe to release her and shift. The girls on either side refused not to remain in some small contact with her. Max continued to rub her back as Rachel lifted her eyes and saw her mother's devastated face turned back toward her. Chloe patted her left hand. That's her real face, Rachel thought. Have I ever seen it before? A dark hand came into view inches from the right side of her face. In its fingers were clenched a few pale kleenexes. Rachel reached up with her right hand and took them, turning back to whisper thanks to the kind person offering them.
Rachel looked back. The science teacher, Ms. Grant was dressed smartly, her face twisted into compassion that was bright enough it hurt to look at. Somehow, that friendly face, that caring face which did not belong to one of the girls she loved was so jarring that something in Rachel shook loose. Holding the tissues tightly, Rachel turned away. A small noise rose in her throat and escaped her mouth without her consent. The tears came back with a vengeance and robbed her of her ability to think or to breathe. Ms. Grant's hand rested for just a second on her shoulder and then left. Rachel could not block up the freshly broken dam. Trying to quiet herself, trying not to wail again, she matched eyes with her mother. Movement on either side of her told her that Chloe and Max were reacting to this change but Rachel had eyes only for her mother. Mountains of regret stared at her across the crowd in the courtroom. A few sets of eyes turned slowly toward her. She's like me, Rachel told herself, for not the first time. She may not feel the same way, but she feels. Maybe watching that is what made me like I am, but I don't care. Maybe I shouldn't wear the masks. Maybe I should try to understand them. Maybe I need help. How many times in the last week alone had she told Chloe she wanted Max to find a therapist? How many of those had she been talking in reality of herself.
Rachel barely noticed the judge's announcement that sentencing would happen at a later date. She just stood up, unable to remain there. It took Chloe and Max a second to match her. The eyes that turned toward her earlier, did so again but Rachel moved with a hand over her mouth to the door. She no longer cared if they kicked her out. She had no cause to return. Chloe moved out in front of her. Max stayed close behind. If the rest of the day could be like that, Rachel thought, she might be able to keep her calm until they got somewhere private. One of two, dark wood doors opened under Chloe's hand as they passed a bailiff, his face contorted in pity. Once the door shut behind them, she grabbed at either of them. Her earlier assertion that she had to be strong no matter the outcome, she decided, was bullshit. Fuck being strong.
February 14th, 2011 - 8:23 PM
Rachel
I'm gonna hit the shower now. Be over there soon. You two be good ;-)
Me
We'd be better if you were here.
Chloe let the phone drop onto the bed beside her. This hotel room was a world away from the little motel that Sera Gearhardt was living out of. Technically it was only a few hours away as it was only Portland, but the quality was different. She wondered for not the first time how her mother and step-douche had managed to afford any of this. Chloe ran her hand through her still damp hair. Not even her shower had entirely washed the film left behind by that shitty, shitty day away from her. The newlywed Madsens were in their room, just down the hall from the one she was sharing with Max (something allowed only because no one had any idea that she was involved with Chloe or Rachel) and Chloe was doing her best to imagine the insides of that room as a dark void and nothing more. She did not want to know anything that might be going on inside of it. Not at all.
The shower in their bathroom shut off. While Max finished cleaning up after the insanely, inhumanely long day, Chloe collapsed backwards onto her bed. Stretching her arms and legs around her, she earned a couple of satisfying pops. Naturally, seeking that slight release from tension, Chloe cricked her neck. Oh yeah, she thought, that's the fucking ticket. Maybe due to its age or maybe something else, but the bed was far more comfortable than the one in her room under Chloe's back as she relaxed and let her feet dangle off the end. Her eyes slid shut. If she focused, she could hear through the wall to the bathroom. Little clicks, containers opening and closing, the sink running for a moment, the cheap little hair dryer starting- who's she kidding, she only barely has any more hair than me. In this way, Chloe passed the time unaware until the room grew quiet and only the bathroom door opening sounded.
After a moment or two of hearing nothing else, she opened her eyes and rolled over, shirt turning uncomfortably beneath her. Forced to sit up in response, her eyes trailed up from the floor to Max's face. What in the name of fuck? The photographer was paused just short of the beds, only a step or two out of the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Even setting aside the just-too-dark lipstick and eyeshadow, Max was dressed unusually. Her standard converse were still in place, but she had replaced her other, more formal attire from the reception with something more at home at a party. She couldn't remember Max wearing any of these clothes before but she had the sneaking suspicion that the reason the half-shoulder top looked familiar was because Chloe had once seen it in Rachel's closet. The tanktop beneath it could have been anything, though Chloe didn't think she owned too much in the way of those, either. All in all, it gave her the impression of someone who was planning on doing something other than lounging around a hotel room. For one paranoid moment she wondered if maybe there was something else planned for the evening that she had forgotten, somewhere she'd have to go and pretend to be excited for her mother. Nothing struck her. Chloe couldn't come up with anything to explain this and Max seemed to be waiting for something. What the hell is she doing? When Chloe couldn't read Max's intent she typically found that the only option left was to mess with her until she told you what was going on, herself.
"Well," Chloe said, her voice lowering as she locked eyes with the photographer, noting the amused expression on her face. "If you were looking to seduce me, I think you took it a step or two too far. Once we come back to the room to crash out tonight, you've got me all to yourself anyway, don't you?" Max's arms tightened over her chest but her face remained unchanged, as if unwilling to give into Chloe's taunting. What the deuces, woman? "Then again, if you are harboring anywanton thoughts, this would be the time to tell me." Chloe thought about putting on the best 'flirty' smile she could manage but even that wasn't very good. Instead, she just fixed a taunting grin on her face, knowing that usually Max would either try to wipe it off there or give in to it. This earned some response, even if it told Chloe very little about exactly what was going on here. Okay, maybe I'm tired and off my game and missing something? With Rachel across the hall and two doors down (not to mention in her shower,) Chloe didn't have anywhere else to turn for answers, so she stood her ground.
Eventually, Max uncrossed her arms and approached. Chloe's grin was no longer a construct. Well, okay then, Chloe thought as Max drew close to her, three feet, two feet, one. The girl leaned down, in, toward Chloe. Chloe leaned in, surprised at how forward Max was being about this. They were but an inch or two apart, every detail of Max's face startlingly clear and sharp and very Max. Who was she to argue with someone who was so very Max? At some point Max had taken her hand and, just before their lips met, Max moved, standing to full height and pulling Chloe insistently to her feet. She struggled to get her legs beneath herself so she didn't just topple goofily to the floor. Okay, so maybe she's taking the lead on this. No sooner had Chloe stood and made as if to initiate the kiss than Max's face broke into a smile and the photographer let go of her hand, turning her back on Chloe as she walked toward the head of the bed. In just one confused, confusing second, Max pulled the comforter down with one solid jerk toward the foot of the bed.
"Pushy, pushy," Chloe told her, though she certainly felt bothered at the implications. "If you wanted to get me into bed that badly, all you ever had to do was ask."
"Chloe," Max said as she grabbed a pillow from the bed and hurled it to the floor, face reddening, "shut up."
"Hu-what? What are you even doing?" The photographer moved from Chloe's bed to the one that was supposed to be her own, even if Chloe thought that rule was far from hard and fast as far as she was concerned. Max repeated the same process as with the last one, only this time she stuffed two of the pillows beneath the sheet, about where they would be to rest between someone's knees while they slept, and left the remainder where it was.
"I'm making the room looked slept in," Max finally answered. "Now if you don't stop distracting me, I'm going to give you a taste of your own medicine." The girl didn't entirely meet her eyes when she spoke.
"Is that a promise?" Chloe asked, nonplussed. She would love to pursue the question of why their room needed to looked slept in, but she had an idea already. If Max thought that it was safe to try to get away with crashing in Rachel's room that night, Chloe felt like she hadn't quite gotten the measure of David's recent bout of hawkish behavior. The only response that this got out of Max, if anything, was that she seemed to move a bit more stiffly, mechanically as she reached over to the table between the beds, seized the remote and flipped the television on. A moment later she lowered the volume and, with one more look around the room-anywhere but at Chloe-the brunette nodded and tossed herself down onto the other bed, head resting on the only pillow still at the top. Well, I'm not going to be giving up that easily, Chloe thought, squinting at the girl as she began to flip through channels. I want answers pixie-hippie. "What was any of that about?" Chloe asked, carefully lowering herself to sit up, right beside Max.
"I've answered that already, you're smarter than this," Max said, pretending to be engrossed in whatever was on HGTV. Chloe didn't bother to look at the screen again, instead looking down at Max until such time as the girl matched her eyes again. Her cheeks were still red. She knew damn well what Chloe was doing and was trying not to show how flustered she was. "We can't exactly sneak back in here in the morning without David or your mother hearing. So we'll need to go to Rachel's and just pretend we got up before them tomorrow morning."
"What do you mean back? " Chloe asked her. Smugly, Max glanced once at her and then looked away, a small smile curving her now cherry red lips. Chloe scooted slightly on the bed and leaned over Max, bringing her face slowly closer and closer to Max's. The photographer was doing her best not only to drive Chloe nuts, to get her upper hand on Chloe, but to leave her confused. It was time to get back to teasing back. When Max began to hum absentmindedly, flipping through television channels, Chloe paused, a few inches from Max's face, practically laying down herself. It only took Max a few more seconds to lose the cocky smirk. Chloe could smell victory on the horizon: the photographer was going to spill all of her secrets and then Chloe could go back to enjoying her downtime with Max and, eventually, Rachel. When Max's eyes connected with her own, it took Chloe a bit by surprise. There were a number of emotions in them and, for once, all of them were pleasant, even if some suggested a very good kind of discomfort. It was Chloe's turn to feel smug. One herculean effort later, Chloe had resisted the urge to kiss the girl and instead, without moving her own face back, reached out to poke Max on the cheek. Confused, the girl turned her head just slightly but Chloe didn't care, smiling wider as she poked again and again, lightly, trailing up over the photographer's nose, once brushing her fingertip across Max's lips.
"What the hell are you doing?" she finally asked, laughing.
"Counting freckles," Chloe replied, innocently, poking yet another point. "I think you have a few more than you used-" the photographer's nimble fingers curled into the neck of her tee. Chloe's voice dropped and trailed off, her lips moving uselessly and then closing. She swallowed. In Max's eyes the dancing amusement, happiness and yes, desire, all cleared way for determination. During some split second when Chloe hadn't been paying attention, Max had made some decision. No sooner had the idea of asking what Max was doing passed through her mind than the girl pulled her close by the shirt and their lips met. It was not what she expected a first kiss between them to be. Mostly because it was the first and they had not spoken too terribly much about the physical side of things, she had almost expected Max to be slower about it. She certainly hadn't expected shyness, but this was something else. Max was fierce in the kiss. She did not let go of her grip for a couple of seconds and even then, it was for that same hand to trail up and around to the back of Chloe's neck, cupping it. The idea of breaking the kiss felt sinful and cruel and disgusting.
Eagerly, Chloe returned the affection. Like a strong wave wiping a sandcastle from the beach, the kiss stole much thought from her. She remained aware of warmth, of the sensations of tongues, lips, noses which bumped against each other when they broke for air, of laughter and foreheads pressed together. She remained aware of a physical connection with Max that she hadn't expected to need so badly. It could have been mere seconds or minutes later but Max's hand slipped from the back of Chloe's neck down to her shoulder and the photographer leaned back, red lips darker still and her bottom lip slightly swollen. Chloe enjoyed the sight and made no attempt to hide that. Still, even far from having caught her breath, something changed on the girl's face and it was her that looked up at Chloe with victory in her eyes. There was something about Max looking at her like that, after their kiss, that bothered her more completely than anything else the girl had done. Before Chloe could react too much, Max leaned up and placed a softer, more chaste kiss on her lips, on her cheek and then finally, her chin. She's trying to drive me out of my fucking skull, Chloe thought. This, it seemed, was finally enough for Max, who leaned back. Though the tension had far from drained from their faces or bodies, there was a sort of relief in the air. Chloe sat up more fully, ready for some time to breathe. Chloe adjusted herself to place her back against the headboard and took a moment to steady herself. Something that would never be relevant to her in that moment, no matter how long she lived, continued to play on the television. She looked at it without seeing it, lost in images and sensations in her own mind and memory. Fingers laced into her own and Chloe grasped at Max's hand. The girl's legs were crossed casually, and her free hand had come to rest behind her head.
Max was attempting to look the image of relaxation after a great victory. Even though it was hard to pull off when she was dressed for a party ( which she still hasn't explained, Chloe realized) Chloe had to admit the attitude looked good on her. To be honest, she couldn't remember ever being more glad to be bested.Okay, now I definitely have to tell Rachel. The idea to bring out her phone and text for Rachel to hurry the fuck up occurred to her, but she was having too much fun watching Max's subtle gloating, not to mention she looked adorable with the signs of their kiss left behind. Chloe was about to try to tease her a little when there came a heavy handed knock on the door to their room. Oh shit, Chloe released Max's hand and sat bolt upright. Even Max's image of cool was gone. Her hair's a mess, Chloe thought to herself. Dimly, she remembered that that was the fault of her wandering right hand. Anyone could look once at us and see what the hell's going on. The idea that David or her mother were waiting out there made her stomach flip. Not only was Max unsure about being public about getting involved with her and Rachel, Chloe was fairly sure her mother's approval of this sharing a room idea was predicated on the belief that Max was her best friend, not another partner.
"Who is it?" Max called.
"It's Rachel!" She was speaking exceptionally loudly even for calling through the door. Chloe relaxed and she saw Max's face go from concerned to amused as the girl pushed herself up. "The eagle has landed, the eagle has landed. I repeat, the pizza has arrived. " This got Chloe's attention again and she jumped to her feet. "Now get out here before I eat it all." Rachel still spoke loudly, as if trying- as if trying to be heard down the hall by mom or David. Chloe chuckled at the eager grin taking over Max's features and made for the door.
"Fuck yes, pizza," Chloe cried. "Don't have to tell me twice."
"Wait," Max told her. Chloe paused and followed Max's finger when she pointed toward Chloe's boots. "Throw those on."
"Yes ma'am," Chloe replied, her voice sultry. It either didn't register on Max's mind or she was beyond caring about attempts at teasing her. Maybe someone else is as hungry as I am? It took very little work to slide her feet into her boots and make for the door. Reaching for the knob, she had a hybrid greeting and prayer of thanks forming on her lips for when she opened it and saw her savior, Rachel Amber, bearer of pizzas waiting for them. The hand reaching out was seized quite at the last second and Chloe turned on instinct. Her head bumped hard against the door when Max pushed her back against it. For a moment her surprise met Max's smirk and then she calmed down as the girl placed one more kiss on her forehead and whispered in her ear, 'that's better.' It was as if maybe there was an appetite other than that for pizza at work in the photographer and she just needed to top off the tank. Those damn butterflies returned to Chloe's stomach for the first time in a while and Chloe couldn't bring herself to argue with them. Chloe reached up and ran her fingers through Max's hair. It was no longer damp but it took very little effort to arrange to look more like it usually did. The brunette pouted slightly but did not argue.
"Open up, I'm hungry," Rachel called more quietly from the other side. Chloe waited for Max to back up, to move hands away from either side of her, but Max only waited, staring challengingly at her. Eventually, Chloe bodily had to nudge her back a step, earning an exaggerated fist pump. Okay, I've let her get one too many over on me tonight. Chloe turned on the spot, vowing some form of revenge and opened the door.
"Yeah, yeah," Chloe told Rachel the moment she met eyes with the girl. "We're coming." Instead of respond to Chloe's flippant tone or try to hurry them along, Rachel seemed to trace over her face with eyes which widened, followed by an exaggerated smile. What? Oh fuck, it's written all over my face, isn't it? Rachel pressed one finger to Chloe's lips and then moved it to her own, as if to say to wait and they would talk about it in a second. The hall was clear of anyone else, which was more than fine, it was ideal. From the carpet to the walls the hall had a real Gryffindor theme about it, gold and red stretching as far as the eye could see. Even the wood of the doors were somewhat reddish in nature, Chloe noticed as Rachel pushed hers open and let them in a moment later. For a moment all was quiet and peaceful and Chloe allowed herself to note that yes, the rooms were identical save for whatever art was reproduced and hung on the walls. Then, as the door clicked shut behind her, Rachel opened her mouth.
"Ooooh, someone made a move on someone," she teased, her wide, excited smile suppressed, if only barely.
"What are you talking about?" Chloe responded, trying to play it cool.
"She doesn't know," Max told Rachel from just over Chloe's shoulder.
"About the face or about our plan?"
"Both."
"What's wrong with my face?" Chloe demanded, arms crossing.
"Don't pout, even if that's hard to do when you look like someone's been using your bottom lip as a chew toy," Rachel's description was blunt enough to make Chloe choke on her laughter, but when the broader girl seized her by the arm and jerked her lightly through the open bathroom door, Chloe got an answer as to precisely how Rachel knew what she and Max had been up to. Remnants of Max's lipstick clung to her lips, to her chin and finally to her forehead, standing out clear against her pale skin.
"Don't blame me," Max said. "Chloe's the one who wanted to be in my face. I just gave her a reason." Chloe enjoyed the sight in the mirror for a second before turning and pretending indignance.
"You marked me and weren't even going to tell me? That's devilish!"
"Now you know that it's open season and if you start pushing, I push back," Max challenged.
"And this," Rachel declared from Chloe's other side, "might be where our first awkward, 'I'm kinda jealous' moment pops up."
"If you still think you have reason to be jealous later tonight, let me know," Max told Rachel, looking at her reflection in the mirror. The tone of her voice was that of someone making a promise they intended to keep. Chloe shivered between them.
"I think you should help me get this off," Chloe told Max, though she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sudden look on Rachel's face. Chloe wasn't sure if she hoped she was around to see whatever Max was threatening (promising?) or not. "It seems only fair."
"Maybe after pizza, if you're good," Max teased.
"The pizza wasn't a joke?" Chloe asked, whipping her head around to look at Rachel, face serious. The girl furrowed her brow.
"Uh, no," she replied, curious. Chloe noticed that the feather was gone. Hanging from either ear was a pair of large, gold hoop earrings. She didn't know if they were actually gold or not but they drew Chloe's attention away from the promise of pizza to Rachel's outfit. She was wearing a plain enough top in comparison to Max but looked like she was ready for a party, too, even if it was a slightly different one from the one that Max must have been envisioning. They're in this together, Chloe thought, suddenly. Rather than push any harder for an answer she was being intentionally denied, she squeezed past Max, bumping her forward so she could push out of the bathroom.
"Hey," Max called, indignantly. Rachel made a noise like a clucked tongue but Chloe couldn't help herself, she crossed from the bathroom into the rest of the hotel room and there, on the foot of the spare bed, sat a pizza box that was far, far too large not to be some kind of a novelty size.
"Holy shit," Chloe exclaimed. "That had to cost a fortune."
"We were hungry," Rachel said by way of explanation, "I thought it was worth it. Besides…"
"Extra sauce? Extra cheese? Double meat?" When Rachel rolled her eyes as if to say 'well, duh,' Chloe was not ashamed of the joyous noise that escaped her.
"Jesus," Max said, sounding as if the wind was out of her sails. "She wasn't this excited when I kissed her." Don't let her know she's wrong about that.
"That was amazing," Chloe told her, winking as she knelt beside the bed. "But this? This is heaven in a monstrously large cardboard box. Come to papa you greasy, delicious bastard!"
"Gee, thanks," the photographer responded, but she did not sound truly hurt. She knew Chloe's attitude, especially toward pizza. The three of them settled on one side of the other bed, tearing into the no doubt pricey meal. Chloe listened, for the most part, unsure if she wanted to do much talking if the others weren't going to tell her exactly what they were up to. Besides, if you listen, they'll talk and let something slip. Eventually this idea was proven a bit faulty as Rachel turned on some silly romcom in the background and conversation died down, allowing the two of them to enjoy that. That not really being Chloe's thing, she nonetheless gave up her investigation and relaxed with her girls, feet dangling off the edge of the bed as she sat. The oversized pizza never really seemed to grow that much smaller. It was the kind of thing that she thought was usually meant to be brought out as part of a challenge: 'Finish this in two hours or less and it's free!' The truth was, Chloe had to admit, even if they dug into it for breakfast in the morning, some of that greasy, delicious pizza was coming back to Arcadia Bay with them. The paper plates provided by the restaurant lay unused; they had hands for a reason, damn it. At one point, a couple of hours on, Max glanced up from her phone and everything changed.
"We ready?" Rachel asked Max suddenly, as if she had been waiting, engulfed by some tension which until then had been invisible to Chloe.
"Yep," Max replied with a wink, her phone sliding into her pocket. "I've got the ID ready," she said. "It's the best I could get in Arcadia Bay, but the guy working the door is supposed to be pretty lax about it anyway. Besides, it's good work. Worth every cent."
"And just how did you afford to buy two fake IDs?" Chloe questioned. "Also, don't we need to pose for them or something?"
"Chloe?" Rachel asked, "You've eaten too much pizza. It's gone to your brain. In what universe does Max not already have enough pictures of the two of us to have IDs made? Besides, she said ID , singular. I've already got one."
"Touche," Chloe replied, then her voice grew far more serious, "but there's no such thing as too much pizza and I'll thank you not to besmirch pizza's great name with your vile and odious lies ." Chloe enjoyed the rolled eyes she got in return. In all of this, Chloe realized that Max hadn't answered just how she could afford getting someone to do a decent ID for her. It was clear by this point that they were going out to a bar or something. Chloe wasn't entirely sure what she thought about it except that sneaking off anywhere with Max and Rachel sounded like a good alternative to the rest of the day.
"Hey," Chloe hadn't expected to find herself being pushed into a cab a few minutes later by Max while Rachel watched her, impatiently. Chloe turned back, placing a hand on the door to stop herself from going in. "Don't go getting fresh with me while I'm climbing in," she teased the girl. In response, Max flicked her once on the end of the nose. "Hey," she repeated, and then gave in when she was nudged into the cab. The three of them found themselves squeezed into the back seat shortly thereafter.
"Platinum Globe," Rachel told the man behind the wheel. The fuck is the Platinum Globe? Chloe thought. It seemed like bad form to ask aloud, though. At some point during the trip, the cabbie struck up a conversation with Rachel, who created a hell of a story on the spot about the three of them being in from Seattle for a friend's bachelorette party. Chloe accepted the slick, rectangular license when Max shoved it surreptitiously into her hand but couldn't quite tune out the elaborate tale Rachel was weaving about the three of them fleeing a bridezilla to have one fun night on the town before they flew back. Chloe watched the city go by, amused to see how much Max enjoyed it. She looked particularly forlorn as they passed a bookstore called The Lamp Post and Colonel. By the end of the trip the cabbie had made his fare and a decent tip on top of it and was warning them to be careful getting home, as he liked this club but didn't care for the side of town it was on.
Chloe knew from the minute they walked through the doors that this place wasn't for her. It wasn't that she couldn't enjoy herself for a night but the club was playing music that wasn't what she would normally listen to. It was electronic, some of it probably some bastardization of pop music and techno, the rest straight up pop. It was something most people could dance to and that was why it would be played in a club. The truth was, Chloe was not most people and didn't know the first thing about dancing to music like this. She was not about to run away from the night ahead of her, though she privately thought all three of them were too tired to spend too long out.
Choosing to limit herself to only one drink right before they left the club, Chloe watched the night unfold. She did not do so dispassionately, either. None of her concerns about David and Joyce Madsen seemed to matter as the night wore on. What did matter was when Rachel tried to teach her how to dance or when the girl lead Max out onto the floor. Chloe found far more enjoyment watching Rachel leading Max, trying to show her how one danced to this crap. Max was more enthusiastic about the idea and, quite frankly, it was kind of cute to watch them interact, to watch the lines crossed slowly, one after another. A hand on a hip here, a challenging look there and then, finally, not too long after the song began, lips that met briefly. It was not just cute, it was kind of fulfilling in a way. Despite being out of her element, Chloe enjoyed her time on the dance floor with either of them over the next couple of hours but watching them was probably the most fun part of the night. There was no drama between the three of them anymore unless you counted the teasing, the playfulness. There was no overstating how much better things felt in that moment than the months surrounding A Midsummer Night's Dream.
For the second time that night, Rachel and Max shared a very brief kiss and Chloe nodded to herself, genuinely happy they were having a moment. She stood from the table and patted it once. Two sets of eyes rose to look at her as she stepped away, but Chloe waved them off, gesturing to the bathroom. She was allowing herself to simply be happy with life when her shoulder connected with someone, rather hard. Expecting to find some drunk dudebro ready to cuss her out, Chloe turned to the side and lifted her head slightly.
A familiar looking woman with long, brown hair looked down at her with intense blue eyes. There was no apology on her lips, instead she dipped her head once as if that was apology enough and then took off away from Chloe. For a moment Chloe couldn't turn away, her mouth hanging open as the memory of the woman's face jumped out at her. She reached for her pocket, intent on digging her cell phone out and trying to get a photo of the woman passing her by. If she had notknown better she would have thought that, just seconds ago, she had been shoulder checked by Vanessa Caulfield. This made no sense for several reasons: Vanessa was in Seattle as the Caulfields had been unable to attend the wedding. More than that, if that was Vanessa, why the hell had she not pulled Chloe from the club by the ear? Okay, Rachel's right, the pizza's going to your head. You're seeing shit. The problem was, her phone was nowhere to be found. She gave up when she looked up and the woman was gone from sight. Weird shit.
By the time she rejoined the girls, Chloe was feeling just tired enough that she thought she ought to hunt down her drink for the night. That being said, it was fun to stop a few steps away from the table. Just moments prior, Chloe had allowed herself a look into a bathroom mirror only to realize she was still wearing the proof of Max's affection on her face and even then, hours later, neither of the girls had had the decency to remind her to wash it off. They're fucking with me, Chloe admitted as she watched the two of them clink glasses together and end their drinks, laughing at some joke she had not heard. But God damn are they adorable doing it. Max's eyes caught hers and the photographer rose and crossed a couple of steps toward her, dragging Chloe eagerly back to the table.
"It's no fair just staring when we can't stare back," Max admonished her, just loudly enough to be heard over the electronic drums in the music the dance floor behind her was devoted to. Chloe settled into her seat only when Max had pecked her on the cheek firmly. Here, there was no one who knew them-Chloe's hallucinatory Momma Caulfield aside-and they could be open about affection for one another. She was not so delusional as to not notice the eyes it drew, some of them judgemental, some hungry and others jealous. It was just that no one here could do anything about it or care too terribly much. While the club wasn't her style, there was a certain freedom there that Chloe was going to miss when they walked out of the doors. Max's hands on her hips as they danced to music that Chloe did not particularly care for was not something that she would be able to indulge in so publicly in Arcadia Bay, even if Max made her involvement with the two of them obvious. Not that half the school doesn't suspect it already if you ask Rachel. Chloe wanted that nigh on hedonistic night of dancing, grasping hands, bodies pressed close together, searching lips and freedom from eyes that had no need to know to last longer after a long day of pretending to be happy for her mother in her great white wedding dress but Chloe was beginning to go under to waves of exhaustion. Mercifully, both Max and Rachel noticed (not to mention that after a couple of drinks, they looked fairly tired, too) and did not seem too bothered by the idea of evacuating the dancefloor. ( I'm infected by the sound. )
All in all, their time in the club might have only been a couple of hours and during those couple of hours Chloe found herself feeling goofy as all hell at least five times, trying desperately to follow Rachel's lead and dance to pop music, but she also found herself feeling more at home than she had in her own house in over a year. She didn't have to hold her tongue, she didn't have to pretend she didn't want Rachel or Max to hold her tongue. She didn't have to worry about David barking her name in frustration from downstairs. Frankly, when Chloe followed Rachel and Max back into Rachel's hotel room, she was at peace. It was an incredibly unusual feeling as far as she was concerned.
That gargantuan pizza box was allowed to stay in its spot at the end of the spare bed where it would be ready and waiting to become the victim of morning hunger pangs. As for Chloe, she wouldn't bring up her dreams that night, if for no other reason than because she was not sure precisely which of the three of them they belonged to, but they lingered in her mind and made her smile every time she thought of them. She had never before slept through a night so warm and peaceful. It was worth any number of lies she would have to tell the next day and perhaps even onward past that. Sure, the bed was a little small for three people, but if you couldn't get close to the people you cared for, who could you?
Chloe was eager to find out what that was going to be like going forward. She closed her eyes again, the memory of a dream fading into her discordant subconscious until she was free to parse through it more completely. Never did wash the lipstick off my face.